Close and Personal
by Shieb
Summary: Witness the growth of an Assassin from a poor girl on the outskirts of Rome to a master of disguise, with her heart bent on revenge. Don't make her an enemy. You won't see her coming. Short story. Three chapters. R&R please.
1. The Forest Girl

Things had always been bad, even since the day I was born. My mother and I barely made it through my birth, and then through my growing up. Two mouths were always harder to feed, especially when you were on the outskirts where it was even harder to cry for help when a soldier had had a bad day. It was only when we took a day off to the forest, where I was taught how to survive, that I was truly happy. It was also the first time I saw her truly smile. I guess our lot in life just left us too vulnerable. Perhaps it was inevitable; fate, and all that.

I was 14, but perfectly capable of hunting for myself. I remember coming home from a trip to the woods, weaving my way through a cluster of buildings and avoiding old Horace's place. The hard life had driven him insane, and he believed that anyone who walked on his property was trying to steal it. I wasn't too far from home- warm, sweet, cozy home- when I heard a wailing that I instantly recognized as my mother's.

Fleet feet could not have been fleet enough, and I stopped just around the corner of a neighboring house. Peeking with one eye, heart pounding, I saw three soldiers at the front of my house, standing guard. Inside, candles were lit, and I could hear a struggle, as well as muffled voices. There was my mother again, whimpering. My blood boiled, but I stayed still, a hunter's instinct making me bide my time.

Speaking of hunting. Carefully, quietly, I snuck my way with the shadows to get behind my house, to where a couple of barrels were resting inconspicuously. I tipped one of the tops and reached in. Hidden inside was my hunting knife. I already had my bow with me from the wilds, but I snuck a few arrows from my mother's quiver in the next barrel. Mother had made both bows, although I had tried many times to master the art, so I trusted mine to stay sturdy. An arrow was drawn quietly from the quiver that was slung over my shoulder, and I waited again, peeking around the corner.

I almost dropped everything. A powerful urge to run would have landed me squarely over a very loud barrel. However, what both urged me to run froze me in place. Cesare Borgia stepped out of my house, dragging Mother along with him, and two other soldiers followed. Now I could hear what was being said quite clearly.

"You could only expect this after your inability to pay." Cesare said reasonably. "Although, I could think of other ways you could pay your debt. You have a daughter, right?"

What was he doing here? A glance at the ground revealed there had been many others here. Perhaps he was just coming back to Rome and, like all the other guards, decided he needed entertainment. That's not to say it wasn't possible my mother hadn't paid some fee or another. Still, that didn't excuse his choice of stopping by just to try and cast my life into what I knew would become a living hell.

They were preoccupied with her, which suited me just fine. The fire that was consuming my mind moved me past the wall, and I embedded an arrow into two soldiers each before ducking back again and waiting for the sounds to indicate that my movements were noticed. They didn't disappoint. Two heavily armored bodies hit the ground, and Cesare became angry. He ordered the other soldiers to search around the area.

I fled from behind the house, finding another position to rest at. The bow was put away quietly, and the dagger drawn instead. A soldier went in each direction, and I waited until the middle one was out of sight of Cesare before making a stab at his throat, in between the plates. The soldier gurgled his death, and there was another sharp bark from Cesare. My mom made a noise, and I could tell she was being pulled along with Cesare, who was telling his soldiers to converge on my position. I peeked around the corner and saw a gun held to my mother's head. Pulling back, I decided that if I was going to have any chance of freeing my mother, I had to rid Cesare of his friends. Perhaps I could be theatrical about it. After all, Cesare was spooked.

I crept around the side that Cesare was not walking along. Bow out and arrow drawn, I spotted the soldier to my right, aimed, and hit him in the space through which he could see. There was only a heavy drop of his body to signal his death. I drew another arrow and, skirting along the edge of yet another building, glanced around for the third soldier. I couldn't find him, so it seemed best to scale a building for a vantage point, crouching to attract less attention.

Cesare was still walking around with my mother in hand, his new weapon held up against her head. It made the fire in me worse, but I just watched and waited. I couldn't hit him from here. In all honesty, my last shot was just luck. The distance between buildings should be easy enough to jump, but could I do it quietly?

A shadow seemed to move, and my attention was grabbed by it. I examined the ground and the roofs, focusing and unfocusing my eyes in case the shadow was camouflaged and I might only catch a flicker of movement. If someone was good enough to hide from me, then I had better finish this quickly, in case they were one of Cesare's friends. Problem was, when I turned back to Cesare I saw that his weapon was now pointed at me.

I got up, fingers still preoccupied with the bow and the fletching on the arrow. He smiled, triumph gleaming in his eyes- and was that relief I saw? It made me hate him more.

"Has mummy taught you something dangerous?" He mocked, pulling back the hammer. My response was to draw back the bow and aim for his head. "You've raised quite a strong young lady. She doesn't seem to realize that you're as good as a human shield, however."

I didn't have to think it over for too long. In the end, I would rather Mother die by my hand, as mercy, than by his, for torture. So I pulled back the string, making it even tighter and the soon-to-result arrow even faster. Then I carefully aimed. Cesare began to move the gun, but I had already let go of the arrow. It sped along to the target, but bounced off the armor on his shoulder. The resulting bullet was narrowly avoided as I threw myself off the side of the building.

My mother screamed for me to run. While I knew it best to run, I felt sorrow for my mother. Was it right to just leave her behind? To have her be punished however Cesare saw fit? I was toying with the idea of confronting Cesare head-on when the sound of many soldiers roused me, and I was forced into action. My bow was stationary in one hand while the other hand grasped my dagger and struck at a soldier who had just come around the corner. I cleared a path, soldiers falling by my blade and without it. There was no time to wonder why others fell, and I assumed they were being hit by poorly-aiming comrades. I fled into the woods, soldiers and bullets alike coming after me.

They would never find me here. The forest was as much my home as that hut used to be, and a bunch of armor wouldn't be able to navigate between the trees and through the brush. It didn't take long for the search to be called off. Safe in the trees, I wrestled with my own conscience for a good hour or two. Then hunger roused me, forced me to move, and it was business as usual.

In order to feed ourselves, my mother and I would make visits into the forest for game, and sometimes for medicinal plants or extra blankets. I was only 14, but the few years that I had gone out with Mother and hunted were enough for the experience to be both fresh and deeply ingrained in my being. The way to walk so that the carpet of leaves smothered any noise, how to draw the bow without startling the prey, how to notice prey without staring straight at it and therefore alerting it to my presence. All of this was strong and helpful, and a deer was brought down within the next hour.

As I fetched a small group of hidden cutlery and such, I found the thought of hiding these things strange. Yes, it was a little more difficult to take these things with us to the forest, but why was it my mother hid them? Perhaps things were worse than she had told me. After all, I had known nothing about her inability to pay debts. Still, it turned out handy as I set up a large pot and boiled some water over a fire.

After stripping the deer, I cut up pieces of the meat and threw them into the water to stew. With a few herbs gathered from nearby, I was content that the soup was going to at least be edible. If Mother were cooking, it would be ten times better, surely.

For some reason, I remember my senses being on edge. Every second passed twice as long, and even the normal rustlings of the wild made me nervous. I was comfortable out here, but I couldn't shake the feeling that my pursuers would somehow find me. I made a mess of those soldiers, so why wouldn't they just keep coming after me?

It wasn't until I was eating with a wooden bowl and spoon that I heard sounds that only came from human footsteps. I was still wary at this point, but one hand merely reached for the dagger that was resting next to me. It only sounded like one person, which wasn't too startling. I only hoped they weren't hostile or strong.

Surprisingly, a robed figure stepped into the fire light. It was dark by now, and the fire cast strange shadows over his form. Oddly, I didn't feel relief by seeing a cloaked figure instead of one covered in armor. Still, defiance caused me to act calm, to be contrary to what normal humans would be. My hand left the dagger, since he didn't seem to be immediately threatening, and I returned to the soup.

"If you're hungry, I'd test it first." was the only thing I could think to say while staying casual.

"Actually, that sounds good. You wouldn't mind?"

Italian. It was a nice language, already easy to roll off the tongue. Though Latin seemed to be the main language in Rome, there were many others about, and Italian was so common that I recognized, understood, and spoke it quite easily. Somehow, though, when spoken by this man, Italian just seemed that much more appealing. Was it his voice?

"Another bowl and spoon are in the pack."

He walked over to the bag in a way that reminded me of a big cat. He was limber and quiet, and I recognized a predator. It was something I was taught to be wary of, because big cats weren't like scared deer at all. They had weapons and the skills to force back any opponent. I noted the likeness in my mind, but otherwise tried not to react.

Why did I just offer a leopard some food? The thought leapt out at me from nowhere. It was preposterous to take back the offer, so I just stayed interested in my own bowl. The man tested out the soup, and he seemed to like it, so he ladled more out onto the bowl.

"This is good." He said after taking a few spoonfuls.

"It's alright. The herbs didn't exactly add much to it."

"You don't need much. You know how to hunt and provide for yourself. It makes sense then, how you were able to give those soldiers so much trouble."

The spoon hesitated on its way to my lips. I examined the hooded man for a little while. There was no threat in his voice, just an impression of a question. For some reason, examining him, in his odd attire, made something dawn upon me.

"You helped me."

"Yes, I did."

"I was wondering how I made it to the forest."

"Pity I didn't arrive earlier, but you seem able to handle yourself."

"I suppose. I'm still figuring that part out." I said quietly, staring at the stew.

"What do you mean?" the man frowned.

"I worry that I didn't help my mother at all. Perhaps my actions merely made things worse for her." I lowered my bowl entirely, not even pretending to think about having more to eat.

"I see. It is understandable. If it helps, I will do everything I can to save your mother."

My eyes went to seek his, giving him my full attention for the first time. I sensed no lie in his words, but still- dare I trust him? He was offering help now, but if he was such a warrior, why hadn't he freed my mother earlier?

"I understand what it's like to have your family taken away from you. I won't let it happen to you as well."

There it was again, that sincerity. I didn't fully understand why, but there was something other than his truth that made me believe him. He did understand, and he was going to do all he could. Finally, I nodded and took another spoonful, chewing on a tough piece of venison.

"Alright. I'll trust you."

"Thank you. I will come back here with your mother. Please stay out of trouble."

He finished the rest of his soup and left me to clean up camp. I finished taking care of the deer, and left both the rest of the carcass and the food to the wolves, who hovered just out of sight. I had no problem with waiting for the hooded man, except I had my own things to take care of and one of them was to not rely entirely on just a stranger.

I changed camp and slept there for the rest of the night, all my stuff perched delicately in the tree tops. When morning met me, my nerves were all jittery. Of course I was nervous. If my mother wasn't already dead, her execution would be today.

On my way to the most obvious hanging platforms, I paused to check on my house. No one was around. Not a single guard stood watch, so I snuck in and stuffed a few sets of clothes into a pack, as well as things I thought my mother and I would value when we fled. Surely, we couldn't stay here. A wolf tooth necklace, a small painting of our family, the ring she wore lately, and the few things we owned that were from other countries. Unsurprisingly, my pack was light when I left to go through the streets of Rome.

A roof seemed a more inviting place to watch a hanging, and a good vantage point to shoot the offenders. But the crowd's shouts suddenly pushed me into a frenzy, and I made it on top of the roof in time to see my mother being led up to the rope. I glanced around, searching both the roofs and the crowd. Where was he? Would the hooded man truly appear? Doubt snaked in me, and I made myself scarce while readying my bow.

Her crimes were listed out, and a few I had never even heard of turned up. Were they making up some charges? Regardless, the noose was placed around her neck. From here, I could see her clenching her jaw, holding her chin high in an attempt to show that she was unbroken. All it revealed to me were the bruises on her face. I pulled back my arrow as a man lifted his hand, ready to give the signal.

Then a shot rang out into the air, and it was the only thing I could hear. The crowd went quiet, as if the shot were fired right next to my ear and dulled them. Yet all I could see, from so far away, was the dark spot on my mother's forehead. My fingers went numb, the arrow almost loosed, and my arms dropped. My eyes searched the crowd, and they immediately spotted a Captain from the Borgia army. He looked up at me and smiled. I knew he had been waiting for me to show up, so that Cesare could get a little payback.

All in a rush, led by my roar of hatred, everything came back to me. It was the exact opposite of the funneling of my senses from before. Now my peripherals seemed wider, and I saw the soldiers on the roofs coming at me, but I had to loose my first arrow at the captain, the tip aiming for the gap in between his helmet and his chest plate. Then I stood to confront the first soldier who got to me. He swung wildly with his sword, but I spitefully stepped to the side and tripped him. His body went flying off the side of the building, and another one, with a crossbow, stood at my other side. This one told me to freeze, but my dagger found his eye.

I had to run to retrieve it because the soldiers on the streets were scaling the walls to get to me, the newest treasonous traitor to the kingdom. Under other circumstances, I would have attempted some sort of peacemaking. As far as I was concerned, all Borgia soldiers now deserved to die. I exchanged blows, but knew when I was outmatched. A new set of noises alerted me to the unmistakable form of the hooded man from the night before. I now fought to move away from him, guilt chewing at me.

Reaching the edge of a building, I turned away from the hoard of soldiers and jumped the scaffolding, propelling myself to another set of roofs. For a time, all I could do was run, but my hate kept making me stop and turn, loosing another set of arrows to decimate my enemies. I was smug, happy to see their bodies drop, shafts sticking out of their stomachs or throats.

Even when the mass of pursuers were no longer present, I kept running along the rooftops, avoiding all of the guards who were alerted up there. It was only when I was taking a rather long jump between rooftops that I noticed two sudden things: a body flying at me through the air, white robes blinding in the sun, and the Captain on the ground, a new gun pointed at my chest.

The robed man collided with me, and we were flung to the ground at the sound of a gunshot, meeting a scaffold and a group of flower pots on a window pane on the way down. A puff of straw greeted our landing. I tried to get up immediately, still in flight mode, but the man held me, forcing me to look at him.

"I thought I told you to stay out of trouble."

"Get off of me!" I shouted with venom, thrashing.

The man stood up, his glare informing me he wasn't over my disobedience. There was still the shuffle of more soldiers around the streets, so the man beckoned me follow, and we ran through the streets, eventually losing the Borgia soldiers altogether. I was glad to finally be free of their persistence, but that didn't mean I was free of the hooded man. He double-checked that the roofs and the streets nearby were free of suspicious soldiers- for the time being, anyways- and then came back to me.

"Are you alright?"

"I'll get there." I gasped. As my instincts and my adrenaline faded, I began to realize just how badly I was shaking.

"Okay. Now, explain to me what you were thinking."

"Entrusting the fate of my mother to a complete stranger doesn't sit well with me."

"So your plan was to go where Cesare's soldiers were waiting for you?" he demanded.

"I didn't know they'd be waiting for me. Not like that." My voice wavered, though I stared at him defiantly.

"You should have stayed in the forest and waited."

"Are you saying," I growled, voice suddenly threatening, "that you knew they were going to shoot her?"

"No." he admitted, eyes regretful. "I did not know they would shoot her when they were already preparing to string her up. Nothing could have warned me about that."

My hate told me he had no excuse. My compassion told me it was the only real explanation. I could not have guessed it, so how could I expect him to know?

"Some knight in shining armor you are." I muttered spitefully, glaring at the wall.

There were a few moments of silence. Eventually, the man motioned with his hand for me to follow him through the streets, and I did so without protesting. We weaved our way through the crowd for a time before anything called me to attention.

"I only know you by your hood and odd apparel. Who are you?"

"My name is Ezio Auditore." He said, turning around a corner, coming closer to a herald that was spouting goodness knows what.

"Ezio? I've heard of you."

"And what of you? What is your name?" He turned to look back at me for a moment before stopping at the corner of a building.

"Silvia." I said after hesitation.

"How fitting." He smiled. Then he held up a hand. "Wait here a moment."

I did so, although my nerves told me to flee. Ezio talked to the herald, and I heard the distinct clink of coins. When Ezio came around the corner, I found myself gazing at him rather curiously.

"That should help suppress your name in Rome."

"Thank you." I said as I followed him back down the street, and we turned to proceed down another. "But… I won't be staying for long."

Ezio glanced back at me, a form of surprise showing on what features I could see.

"You have already decided upon your next step?"

"I had it planned out before you met me at the campfire last night. Except… Well, I was hoping mother would flee with me. She said she had friends in Spain and England. I'll got to Spain first, and if things don't work out, England."

"And after that?"

"I won't go anywhere. I'll live my life out as a hermit in the forest, I suppose."

"Well, before you start exiling yourself from mankind, come back here, to Rome."

"What for?" I couldn't imagine ever wanting to come back, now that Rome held such unpleasant memories for me.

"If all else fails you, find me. I will give you a home."

"Ezio. I don't want your help." I affirmed a bit stubbornly.

"Silvia." Ezio said to mock me, and turned to view me. "You need it, no matter how much you deny it. I do not think your mother would have wanted you to run away just because life made things difficult for you."

What had become an alright mood plummeted, and I was back to glaring at Ezio. He frowned as well, noting his mistake.

"Wait. That came out wrong." He tried to amend himself.

"No, I think you said exactly what you wanted. Forgive me for running away from the resting place of my final family member, who was brutally murdered by a man who I strongly suspect was merely bored and required some damsel to put in distress."

"Silvia, what I meant-"

"Stop talking!" I exclaimed over him, unwilling to hear anything else from Ezio. "It won't do you any good."

I stormed away from him and continued to weave my way through the crowd. The man did not persist, though I suspect he stared after me, at a loss for proper words. What he had wanted to say, I did not care. I didn't want to know. All I knew was that he thought me a coward when I thought myself well mastered, considering all that had gone on recently.

My strides took me swiftly home, where I took the last of what I needed, and to the forest, where I fetched the rest of my things. Packing everything together and keeping my bow at the ready, I moved on, following the line of the road that would lead me to Spain. I would take rides when my pride would allow it, and I would rest when it was safe. Until I arrived at Spain, my destination was the only thing I allowed to invade my mind. And when no one was home in Spain, I went north, to England.

Mother, you have no idea what strange friends you have made.

**Shieb: This was the first real AC fanfic I had written, and I think I did fairly well (though I had to go through and edit it several times). Unfortunately, the story here is very single-minded in this chapter, but rest assured the sense of character changes drastically next chapter.  
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**Review if you can. I like improving upon myself.  
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	2. The Young Dona

"_Remember, Verónica. Being a Dona is not about the name. You are a Dona by the way you walk, the measure of your stride, the straightness of your back, and the eloquence of your speech. Females are subservient in Spain, so don't get ahead of yourself in Rome. Play your part, and wait."_

Yes, I remembered it all. The words of Marisol went over and over again in my head, as if the woman was still next tome, lecturing me constantly. But what would I have done without her?

It was strange to be back at Rome, because I had never seen this part of it before. An arching ballroom with what I now recognized as amazing architecture, with pointed lines to give impressions of strength or grace. Artistry was everywhere, even in the very buildings we walked through. Even my clothes weren't dreary anymore, instead bearing colorful threads and an elegant blend of shades. And the company I was keeping… It made me shiver, how close I was to the nastiest bureaucrats in Rome and several countries aside.

I, Silvia, was introduced as Verónica Reyes from Velencia, Spain by my personal servant upon entrance. My servant was pretty, with light brown hair neatly put up into a bun. But nobody was looking at her, the girl who kept her eyes cast downward and only spoke when prompted. Everyone in the ballroom seemed to have their attention fixed on me, particularly the young lads. Perhaps it was just my paranoid imagination, but I did catch some shy gazes darting away as I looked at them. I wondered if, perhaps, my guise was already seen through.

"_If you have doubts, pretend they don't exist. Chances are you'll be given a lot of attention, and if you begin to crack underneath the curious looks that come your way, you'll stand no chance when it comes to socializing."_

That's right. If I crack, I won't get any closer to him. Being a Dona, I was expected to socialize with everyone, and compliment them with a smile, not distance them with a wary gaze. Calm and inviting was the air I wanted to exude, and I walked about the ballroom with the warmest air I could muster. While perusing past a table of party foods, someone approached. A small touch from my servant alerted me to him, and I turned with a curious gaze.

He was a young man, near my age, with a boyish face and shining eyes. He smiled at me, and then made a quick bow while I curtsied.

"A fine dance, isn't it?" He started off, words shaking with the faintest nervousness.

"I wouldn't know, as I haven't danced yet." I giggled girlishly. "The ball, so far, is delightful, however."

This made him go pink in the face. I was glad he was not a Spaniard, as a Spaniard would have taken my jest as an insult. My smile, however, seemed to assure him that it was just a friendly joke. He continued to smile, and in fact seemed encouraged.

"Perhaps you would like to, then? Dance, I mean." He amended eagerly.

"_The best way to get the precise man you want is to catch his attention, but attract someone he sees as below himself. Men are terribly competitive, and a man with power believes he will win in a competition over a lady."_

The fruits of my recent labor came striding forward with large shoulders and a strong chest, holding himself like a man of power. He was well-built, and clearly not the young boy of a noble family, who had done nothing but find ways to fill his free time all his life. I knew the Captain, but turned my gaze politely to him, without recognition, when he spoke.

"You're asking her to dance without first telling her your name? How terribly rude of you." The Captain said, perhaps a bit too loudly.

"In the spirit of good form, then, what is your name?" I said kindly, allowing the Captain the same smile I bestowed upon the young man.

"I am Captain Cato." The man said, grasping my hand and kissing it charmingly.

"And I am Domitius." The other said quickly, as if hoping to regain the ground he had just lost.

"What might your name be, young lady?" Cato continued as if Domitius had not spoken.

"I am Verónica Reyes."

"A young Dona, perhaps?" Cato inquired.

"Where do you come from?" Domitius came in again.

"Yes, I am a young Dona living under the roof of Dona Marisol Flores, whose home resides in Valencia, Spain." I obliged both of them, quietly hoping for Cato to escort me away from the young man.

"Perhaps two of us questioning you at a time is a bit pressing." Cato said kindly, perhaps reading my thoughts. He offered his arm. "Would you join me for a walk, Dona Verónica?"

I placed my hand upon his arm and allowed myself to be escorted around the ballroom after ordering Ana, my servant, to wait for me. Cato's measured paces matched my own, and I hardly had to think about the proper way to walk. He did his best to compliment me.

Though it didn't cross my mind back then, I may have actually admired Cato. Well, I might have if a bit of research hadn't pegged him as the one who pulled the trigger so long ago. As it was, my only thoughts were upon deceiving him.

"So you are a Captain? That is an admirable position."

"Appointed by Cesare himself." Cato replied. I suspected he was reining in a level of pride.

"You must be very good, then."

"Fairly." He said modestly. "But what of you? What brings a Dona of Spain to Rome?"

"Marriage." I replied simply.

"You are to be married?" Cato asked without surprise.

"Not quite yet." I giggled. "I am looking for someone to be married to."

"So you are not yet betrothed?"

"No, I am not. I suppose it is a strange thing, at my age."

"Not so strange."

I opened my mouth to say something, but it caught in my throat as the sound of violins, making a slow introduction, reached my ears. My mouth ended up closing, instead arcing in a pleased smile as my eyes turned to view the orchestra that was playing. I could see their concentration upon the notes, and their fingers on the frets.

"You enjoy this music?" Cato said, pulling me from the nostalgia of my lessons.

"It is a silly thing to admit," I smiled sheepishly, "but I have a terrible weakness for strings."

"Would it be wrong to theorize that a weakness for music results in the best dancing?"

"Would you like to see?"

Cato extended his hand with a pleased expression, and I lay my own on top of his, to be enclosed as he led me to the floor. The song was slow, almost whining, as the violins' pitch rose and then fell. The rest of the orchestra joined in, and the sounds became a little softer. Cato and I danced slowly, elegantly to the rhythm. I had to remind myself of a few things.

"_No! You're going too fast!"_ Marisol had said as she focused on my dancing. _"Listen to the music, breath it, feel it. You're letting your fire get in the way. Again! But slow. You must be elegant, not strong. A Dona is not known for being strong."_

I made an effort to allow my footsteps to go with the music, instead of with my beating heart. We were graceful, though Cato was a bit heavy at dancing. It bored me, but I did my utmost to enjoy the dance and the music, or at least pretend. When it ended, we stood apart again.

"You are good at dancing." Cato said.

"And you are learned." I replied graciously.

"Which is a nice way," someone else said, interrupting our pleasantries, "of saying you two don't match up."

I turned to see Cesare Borgia. It was all I could do to keep my face in a pleasant smile. If I weren't here with another plan, my first reaction would be to reach for the blade I had stashed away in my ridiculous dress.

"Isn't that right?" He said, prompting me.

"Very astute." I said, a tad bit tense. "Not that I dislike your Captain, but my partner's feet are usually lighter."

Cato stared at his superior, an expression on his face akin to that of a child who had something taken away from him by a parent. There was no way he could contest with Cesare. Still, in Cato's mind, he spotted me first. Cesare, on the other hand, was doing what Cato had done to Domitius earlier: ignoring him.

"It seemed to me you were having a hard time with this song." Cesare noted.

"How so?" I returned curiously.

"You were forcing yourself to dance slowly."

"You are sharp." I stated, clearly impressed. It was at this point Cesare turned to Cato.

"Don't you have other things to do, Captain?"

With an imperceptible frown, Cato took his leave. I took the moment as an opportunity to glance around the room and regain my bearings. The appearance of Cesare had blocked out the rest of the world for a moment, which was vastly dangerous when you were a sheep in a wolf's den. I noted the position of the guards, Borgia's family members, his wife, and my eyes flicked upward- something I found myself doing ever since I had gotten back to Rome. I looked back at Cesare and found him watching me.

"What do you say, Verónica?"

"To what?" I asked, quite perplexed.

"I figured you would want a faster dancing partner."

I did a quick intake of Cesare. The image in my head always wore armor, so it was strange seeing him out of it and into what was considered proper clothing. That wasn't to say he didn't have any protection or weaponry on him, but he almost looked like a normal bureaucrat. His muscles showed through the clothing, and I smiled appreciatively, telling him he looked suited to the task with the curve of my lips.

"Well, growing up in Spain, I am a little more accustomed to faster, more spirited dancing. But I hardly consider that proper dance at a party such as this."

"You are meant to have fun at a party." Cesare said, offering his hand.

"_Is that alright?" _I remember asking after a rather rigorous dancing lesson.

"_Perfect!" Marisol exclaimed. "But Verónica, I think it best you don't dance to fast music while you are entertaining or being entertained. It will show who you are, and if you are serious about this, you cannot afford to let people see how strong you are."_

But how could I turn him down? As I was supposed to be a Spaniard, I wasn't given to embarrassing anyone or making them look in the wrong. Half of the eyes in the room were upon us, however discreetly in some cases. I apologized silently to my teacher and, after a slight hesitation, put my hand in Cesare's.

Cesare signaled to the orchestra, and the flavor of Spanish music was immediately apparent. I felt my body shifting to accommodate its tone and rhythm. My partner and I went about the center of the dance floor, testing each other's footwork with the introduction to the music, going through the paces while accommodating a more intimate sensation.

The transition between that, an almost stiff dance that symbolized the caution and walls between us, and the closeness following was so natural that I only noticed it afterward. Cesare took the lead, and I intuitively followed his movements, allowing myself to be pulled close and then twirled away. Our footwork became a mix between the dance and the battlefield that Cesare knew so well, with me moving along with him. My body did exactly as it had been taught when our steps transitioned to something more of an intimate tango- it got closer to my partner's. Cesare took it all in stride, enjoying the dance as fire leapt from our bodies.

We spoke, Cesare and I. Not through words, but through body language. I could only wonder how much of it he understood, could only hope he didn't know that language well. Yes, I had fire coming out of my soul, but my fire was the fire of vengeance, and it fueled the same moves that his lust was behind. Our heat brought us together on the final note, close and staring into each other's eyes while our lungs yearned for air.

Applause brought me out of my thoughts, and suddenly the ballroom full of people was back. I pulled away from Cesare, who let me go somewhat reluctantly. His eyes still shone with the lust I felt from him through the dance. Now I was acting modest, and he was quick to try and stop me.

"Cesare, we have other guests to entertain." Lucrezia, his blonde and beautiful sister, said while approaching us. I could hear the spite in her voice, and the glare she cast toward me was ill concealed. She took him away, escorting him to other important people.

Captain Cato approached me once the coast was clear, and did his utmost to impress me and recapture my attention. I gave it to him, although I was thoroughly spent already. Still, I made sure I was on his mind when the party had ended.

After the party, I came to the suite I was using with my servant. It was warm and well decorated, modified under the expectation that I would stay for a while.

"Ana, help me with this blasted dress." I grumbled as the doors to my room were closed.

Ana moved over to me, helping me untie the fiercely tight strings in the back and alleviating a great deal of pressure from my lungs. While she helped me out of the dress and redid my hair so it wouldn't get near my face, she talked. It was nice to hear her talk again, instead of pretending she shouldn't be allowed.

"How did it go tonight? The dance with Cesare looked successful."

"I wasn't supposed to dance like that. If Marisol found out, she would be furious."

"True." Ana said with a slight sigh. Marisol was the hardest of my teachers. Between her and Anastasia, my mother's friend from England, Marisol was a devil lady. I learned very quickly not to say that in front of her, however.

"However, yes, I think this is a successful first step. Now, let's just hope I can pull off the other half of my training correctly." I sighed.

Once my hair was tight upon my head, I strode to the closet and moved the hanging pieces of silk to find a compartment in the back, out of which I pulled a dark set of clothes. Donning them, it looked something like a set of breeches put together with the robes I had seen on Ezio Auditore three years ago. This version was modified, however, so that the robes functioned to hold weapons, but were not so fly away, moving less easily in a breeze. I also lacked the hood, instead tying a piece of cloth over my nose and face.

"How is it?" I asked finally.

"You look like a bandit." Ana said, looking skeptically at my costume.

"As long as no one will recognize me." I said, somewhat miffed. It didn't matter how I looked, really. Still, I did feel a bit silly.

"Wish me luck." I said softly after peeking out the windows and making sure no one had the compulsion to look at my suite window at this late hour. Then I snuck out the window, climbing my way quietly onto the roof. Now, to find my dear Captain Cato.

The year and a half of training under Marisol served me well. She taught me the proper way for a Spanish woman to flirt and attract males, and now here I was exercising her other half of training. Free running was just another way to get around. In the darkness of the night, few saw me upon the rooftops- even the guards, who stood around with only periodic circuits around their areas.

Perhaps my earlier years were spent living around the outskirts of Rome. That didn't mean I had no understanding of the structure inside the walls. Roofs kept all areas closely connected, and performed the job of transportation almost as well as the streets. These same roofs, which I had only begun to see the value of three years ago, served me well in taking me to Captain Cato.

Despite the party, Cato still had his shift to perform. He, unlike all the rich folk, didn't have the liberty of heading home to sleep off whatever he had consumed. Therefore, he was at a tower, doing his duty. Not much consisted of a guard's duty here in Rome, it seemed. All I had ever seen them do, even from when I was a little girl, was pick on passersby who glanced at them. Thankfully, it was too late for anyone to be walking around in restricted territory. I saw Cato quite easily from the rooftops, surrounded by only a couple of his guard friends. All it would take was a single well-aimed throwing knife to his neck, and he would bleed to death. But no, I couldn't kill him like that.

It was strange. As I reached for the throwing knives, silent as the stars above me, I found my hands shaking. A part of me wondered what I was doing. _What was I doing?_ Was this a joke? I was avenging my mother by murdering the man who both killed her and tortured me in the process. This was no time to question the right of it. The world was better without Cato here to terrorize other families. Thoughts of protection stilled my hand, and I took careful aim.

Two knives each found their target, and in the panic I downed another guard and wounded a fourth before it became necessary to move. A rooftop guard was drawn to the commotion, and I hid behind a chimney to avoid his arrows before disposing of my last throwing knife. This gave the guards below enough time to hastily regroup. Disappointed, but not beaten, I moved myself to the other side of the tower. The majority of the guards- two out of three- were watching where I had been. Dropping from the wall, a dagger found the one smart guard's stomach. Now there was only Cato and his lackey. No, wait, strike that. The lackey dropped his spear and ran, leaving only the Captain.

"Who are you?" The Captain shouted, bearing his sword at me.

"I'd show you my face, if I weren't in need of it." I said in a low voice. "So you'll have to die only in the knowledge that I am your past, come for revenge."

Cato spat on the ground, a clear sign of his distaste for my decree. But no matter. I had to finish this before he was given backup. The roof guards were probably curious by now, and certainly a frightened guard running through the streets of Rome would attract some attention. I moved into sword reach of my victim.

He thrust his sword, which I parried easily with the dagger in my hand. If only I had something more substantial than just its limited blade, but it would have to do. A sword would be too easy to find in my quarters. I stepped closer, and he stepped away. We did a little swordplay. Now it was a game. Thrust, parry, twirl, counter, strike. Not for the first time, I counted the similarities between a fight and a dance.

I waited not so patiently, but my persistence won me an opening. I took it, and the blade found his stomach. Cato stopped, his mouth open in either surprise or pain. Perhaps both. Then his body fell heavily to the ground.

My hands still shook as I stood there, gazing at the dead body of the man who was found to be my mother's murderer. Adrenaline still pounded through my veins. For some reason, I felt no better, though victory certainly was a testament to my first outing since my lessons with Marisol and Anastasia.

There was no time to ponder. The frightened guard had certainly caught attention, and friends of Captain Cato were coming. That is, if Cato, a lecherous man who was less than gentlemanly, could have friends. Their armor made heavy noises with their footfalls, however, and it told me not to stay. I had done what I came to do. There was no reason to waste time with more soldiers.

They came around the corner fairly quickly, but I was already running up the side of the tower. There was a set of boards that provided a runway to me. The only problem was that there were few roofs nearby, and the further I ran, the further from any safe distance I went. Eventually, my fleet feet took me too far to jump, and I had to halt at the top of the tower, where there was only a bit of straw for the odd lazy guard and a few barrels of gunpowder.

Wait, gunpowder? I glanced behind me at the swarm of guards, all of whom were already counting their victory. They shouted up at me about what torture would await me after I was caught, but others skipped torture entirely and presumed they were going to kill me. Either was possible. Death was more likely. Ever the one to play confident, I smiled from beneath the cloth wrap and ran onto the landing. I grabbed a torch, threw it onto the barrels of gunpowder, and then ran to the farthest piece of wood I could find. It extended only a foot past the edge of the building, but it was enough for me to feel marginally safer than the soldiers who were running straight into the explosion.

The guards ran up and continued to do so until the man in front realized the danger of what he saw. Then everyone backpedaled. I saw them all turn and run, and as the fire finally heated up the barrels and touched the powder, I had to turn away. The explosion hit me like a full force punch in the back, and I flew from my perch. I panicked in those moments of falling. What had I done? Why hadn't I planned out an escape route before blowing myself up? But then, very suddenly, I landed in a cart of straw. Well, that was very convenient. Who would have thought that something like a thick cart of straw would be sitting right here, where a blood spatter would have been otherwise?

I jumped from the straw before the fire from above would create an inferno where there had once been safety. Quietly, I made my way through the streets and cautiously maneuvered back to my suite. For some reason, I felt the need to double-check my surroundings, the nagging feeling that I was being watched persisting. The streets were empty, no windows opened, and the roofs seemed abandoned. There was a group of thieves, but they seemed interested in some manner of gambling game.

After returning inside, Ana rushed to me. She gave me a brief hug, and then informed me that the guards seemed to have all been loud out on the streets, and she had begun to worry about me. I thanked her, but proceeded to quickly take off all of my assassin's garments.

"There's more." Ana said quickly in Spanish.

"What more is there? They haven't asked for me, have they?" I returned in the same language, but not as quickly.

"Well, no, the guards haven't asked for you. But you did have a visitor."

"Who?" I asked, turning to her while I peeled off the upper half of my clothing. My sweat had it all but stuck to me, and I was quite happy to be rid of it and switch it for proper bed wear.

"Cesare."

"Borgia?"

"Yes." Ana said, quite breathless and nervous.

"Well, he wasn't too insistent, was he? You're alright."

"Yes, I'm fine. It's just, I had to tell him you didn't have enough energy to do much else tonight."

"Then you've done well. He went away. There is no problem."

"I suppose. I just… worry."

I turned to Ana, handing my killing garb to her with a certain amount of reluctance. Ana and I were old friends, with no real measure of a master-to-servant relationship between us. She had to play the part and volunteered to come with me and help me, but I by no means enjoyed giving her every dirty job that I, the former street rat, could just as well perform.

"Rest easy, Ana, my old friend. Cato is dead. I have no intention of bringing down every Captain that thinks he'll stand between me and my final target. I'll sneak past them all and murder that Borgia bastard. Then we'll pretend to be bewildered, I distraught, and we leave."

"You make it sound so simple…" Ana whispered. "Was it that easy just a few minutes ago?"

I was silent for a time, trying to gain my bearings in this new sea of emotions that I had never once encountered. The hate was normal, and the need for vengeance I recognized. How I felt about everything was still being processed.

Three years ago, I encountered a similar problem. After I had stopped running for my life, I wondered if it had been right to kill all those soldiers. After all, a few at the end had died only because of my spite, not because they were an inch away from killing me. In the end, my decision had been that those soldiers had died because of my necessity to stay alive. They were no different than the deer I had shot in the woods. But this wasn't the same. This time, Cato had died because of my need for revenge.

"I'll tell you when I know. For now, though, I am just Verónica Reyes, the young Dona looking for a husband. If Cesare would jump for a mistress, this should be a short trip."

**Shieb: I told you things changed a bit. This little girl grew up and got smarter- with training, apparently. There's a sense of flirting throughout this and the next chapter. Yes, I know it's a bit odd to have Cesare being all pervo, but, as far as how he was written in AC and his historical information, it could be very possible he was like that. It fits for the story I want to tell.**

**Let me know what you think about this, yeah?  
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	3. The Assassina

I endeavored to stay in Rome until I had 'found a proper suitor'. Unfortunately, that story gave me a lot of trouble. While it kept me respectable and believably innocent, it also made me entertain quite a few males who thought themselves interested in me. There were only a couple that were particularly annoying, as they seemed to think they had caught my attention. Still, I found time to wander without them.

I only had to catch a few eyes before people insisted I had an escort of some sort to walk about with me. What with Captain Cato assassinated, it was Ana's duty to be concerned for my safety. Then it was my duty to abide by the rules. However, I didn't always do so well at it.

My escort, whether it be Ana or a guard from the later infatuated Cesare, I ended up getting a feeling I am told can be related to claustrophobia when I was around them. I became flustered and felt a tightness of breathing, as if I was being smothered. Before I panicked and did something silly, I slipped away from my guards. This turned out to be the wrong thing to do. I often got myself into situations where my true nature asserted itself, protecting beggars and thieves with made-up stories that would let me keep my integrity.

Despite the minor issues maintaining an image and the small disagreements I had with Ana in the suite, most things went well. Cesare, for instance, seemed to fall easily to me. He would jump for a mistress, as it turned out, and he understood how to make slightly uncertain woman be okay with less than Catholic ideas. I found that kind of ironic, since his father was the Pope.

Cesare wasn't always in the city, but when he was, he and Verónica would meet either under mysterious circumstances or by coincidence. Nonetheless, it fostered a fond relationship that was almost flirtatious. Of course, nothing happened, and when things almost did happen, there was always some sort of interruption. Thank goodness.

Apart from our time together in society, I am unashamed in saying I took my revenge very seriously, and therefore followed Cesare periodically when he was in Rome. I learned his movements and interests, trying to learn more about him so that when I finally killed him, it would be quick. I was no fool. Cesare was smart and strong. Preparations could make this encounter survivable.

Sadly, I also found that I was also a very jealous assassin. There were others in Cesare's ranks who would have him dead, but I found myself spoiling their attempts instead of taking the opportunity to help them. It was startling to realize that I wanted Cesare dead by my hand, and my hand only. Unfortunately, this also drew attention to me, and Cesare knew he had someone following him, though I wasn't certain whether he believed me to be a shadowy helper or not.

Anyways, long story short, I finally decided upon a night in which his whereabouts were confirmed not only by my recent interaction with him, but also with the information I had gained during my time spying. Following him also confirmed my beliefs, and he led me to a giant hall, similar to one you would find in a church. There were guards outside the door, but I had learned before that windows were far more helpful than doors.

Quietly, I made my way to the floor. He seemed unaware of my presence, busying himself with I don't know what. I corrected this by throwing one of my few throwing knives his way, aiming to cut him, but only managing to bounce it off his armor. The great warrior took notice immediately, turning to view me with a characteristic smirk and quirk of the eyebrow.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your protection?" Cesare asked, his body language that of the Captain-General.

"Oh, I'm not telling you anything." I purred back. Nice to know he recognized me.

Cesare walked forward, striding easily down the vast hall. I matched every stride of his while moving backward. We both found small smiles on our faces, though mine was hidden by the piece of cloth over my face, as we began the first steps of a dance.

"You won't tell me anything?"

"You'll have to make me." I replied softly.

"Is that an invitation?"

"Unlikely. I doubt you'd keep up."

My footsteps took me back and curved behind a large pillar, coyly pulling me into its shadow and out of his sight. His sword made a quiet noise as it was pulled from the sheath. I quietly pulled out my dagger.

All at once, I spun from beneath his sword swing as he appeared from around the pillar. I stepped daintily out of reach, but he advanced with light steps. Only a warrior in this time would be expected to both dance and fight with the same grace as the other. Our steps contested with each other, an advance being matched with a retreat and stubbornness occasionally drawing us too close for comfort. More than once, he reached out to restrain me, but I danced almost flirtatiously from his reach.

I loved teasing him. He wanted answers, and to win, but I wouldn't let him. No, it was fully my intent to see him bleeding upon the floor. My strikes proved as much, and Cesare was right to assume that the use of his sword was not uncalled for. Even as our blows hit, and we held each other at momentary impasses, there was almost a compliment for the other in our smirks.

I suppose I got too cocky, or perhaps the dance was just too strong, but Cesare managed to get close enough to make a cut. His sword stroke sliced through my clothing, down the side of my leg, and let loose a strip of clothing that fell with the same flitting of a dance skirt. I paused only to raise a brow at Cesare before twirling with a flourish, the newly freed cloth complimenting my move as my leg swept to knock Cesare square in the chest. He barely felt the blow through the armor, however, and I had to backpedal fairly quickly.

Cesare thrust with the blade, and I parried it with my knife. The pillar at my back startled me, but the moment it took to be startled was the moment it took for Cesare to be hardly an inch from me. I could feel his form, familiar from the first time I had danced with him.

"You have been trained." He said, face a mere inch from mine.

"I have."

"To what end?" He extended his free hand, to draw a curled finger along my jaw.

"We're not that close, yet." I tutted, reprimanding his hastiness.

A darkness came about in his eyes, but I was already acting. My knee rose up in a swift kick, and while he recoiled, I slipped away again. Not used to being denied anything, Cesare came at me with a new fierceness, and I returned it with spirit. I could almost hear a beat, quickening from before, as we twirled and leaped to outmaneuver each other, trying to twist to the enemy's blind side or engage them head-on. Now I used throwing knives when I saw an opening, leaning forward to strike with them and then swinging like a pendulum, back to avoid a sword sweep. I once found myself back-to-back with him, stepping as a mirror would to avoid getting caught up in his footsteps. Then he caught me off guard, and I was sent reeling back, cozied up against another one of those blasted pillars.

The man put his blade beneath my chin as I tried to move, his eyes warning me to stay still. I did so, and quietly waited as the sword flicked upward, cutting the cloth that had once rested over my face. Its folds fell softly to my shoulders, and my identity was finally revealed. I couldn't tell if Cesare was thrilled or not.

"Verónica Reyes. What a pleasant surprise." Cesare said, not sounding surprised at all. "It's nice to see that you can fight as well as you can dance. So tell me," he continued, kneeling over me while keeping his sword at my throat, "to what do I owe the pleasure of your company?"

I caught his hand at the wrist while it crept to my leg. I knew, like this, where Cesare held both power and an insatiable level of lust, I was all but beat. There was nothing left to do but wait for the perfect moment in which I could perform an escape, preferably a savage one.

"Don't mistake my company for a pleasure. I just can't stand you dying by someone else's hands." I replied with mock concern. Cesare had brought us too close again, our lips a centimeter apart.

"Cesare!" Called a voice, and we both looked to see a captain at the door of the hallway.

"What business do you have?" Cesare called back, clearly displeased that he was interrupted.

I took the moment without hesitation. My leg bent and shifted, and then snapped open to kick straight up, my toes meeting with Cesare's chin. He was knocked up and back, and I redirected my leg to slam his head upon the ground. Quickly, I rose, the dagger spinning expertly before I drew up to attack. Dazed, there was no way he could avoid this stoke of death.

The loud bang of a gun wasn't enough to make me flinch, but the bullet hitting my dagger and causing it to wrench sharply out of my hand was. The captain had shot at me, but thankfully missed. Still, my moment was lost. Cesare was quick to stir, and my new objective was to flee and kill Cesare some other day. I ran as Cesare shouted orders for my capture, to the back of the hall and then up the walls, my hands and feet easily finding purchase. Nimbly, I climbed high, and then took a leap back, turning in midair so as to catch the chandelier that was behind me. As it swung, I pulled myself up and then jumped to the next one.

"Be careful, bastardo!" Cesare shouted as a bullet sparked against the chandelier. "I said I want her _alive_!"

He wouldn't get me alive, not in a million years. I swayed on the chandelier, turning to the walls and focusing my vision. My heart hammered against my ribs as if it meant to burst out and flee from me, but it was only the drum to me, pounding away at the dance of my life. I swung the chandelier a bit, then tensed my legs and step and a leap later, I curled up with my arms covering my head and my legs bent tightly against my chest.

The glass to the hall shattered, its pretty stained colors flying everywhere and sticking into the cloth I had once used to cover my identity. A burst of cold, wonderful air came to meet me, and then, suddenly, gravity took hold. I fell down, down, and the tilted roof of the large building came up to greet me. I rolled harshly on my shoulder, and then tumbled down until I met with a more flat surface. Pitifully, I tried to stand while I rolled, but it only served to make me stumble, and I almost fell into the street. Hanging onto the edge of the roof, I panted, all too aware that the shingles might give way at any moment.

I couldn't figure whether I was terrified, jacked up, or thrilled. The adrenaline that was pumping through me made it pretty hard to focus on anything but the need to run, fight, and keep moving. My muscles and bones groaned in protest as I pulled myself up to the flat roof, hearing Cesare's cries from the window.

"What are you doing, you idiots? Get her! Catch the assassin!"

Assassin? I had never been called that before. It was a strange thing, since my whole goal since I had reappeared in Rome had been to kill Cato and Cesare. Still, the word almost didn't seem to fit me. I had never thought of myself as an assassin. Perhaps I should become accustomed to it.

Perhaps I looked more like a thief, for as I ran through Rome, the guards that were called up merely by the ruckus following me called me that. The tight bandages around me seemed to fit, if I compared my costume to that of the bandits that sat atop buildings, playing gambling games. Still, the few that knew me as 'assassin' were quick to call attention to me, and I had plenty of work before me.

My mind started comparing this with the time before. When Ezio had tried to help me, he had failed. I tried to blame him for it, though that was an unfair judgment. Nobody could have guessed Cesare would have told Cato to do such an incredibly mortifying thing. And afterwards, plenty of guards wished I would have followed my mother to death. Then, I was clumsy as I tried to fight off the hoards before me. Better than most street rats, yes, but clumsy. Now, I finished off my targets with a certain finesse, dealing with the obstacles but still making good time toward the suite. I needed to get to the suite to send Ana a signal to run. Which reminded me- I stopped by a guard, tripped him, and took his crossbow before continuing on my way.

It wasn't easy running through Rome like this. The guards peeled off slowly, whether they died or merely lacked the stamina to keep up any sort of pursuit. Unfortunately, the ones that could keep up could also climb buildings, causing a bit of trouble for me.

Also, note to self: Never again use throwing knives when your enemy is three feet away. You may need them when your new enemy is further away and more convenient to kill from a distance.

The suit came up fast, and I climbed higher so as to better aim with the crossbow. But before that, I gave my pursuers a little bit of my time by throwing them off the building. I couldn't have them interfere. With only a moment of peace cleared, I aimed the crossbow and then let loose a bolt, which crashed through the window to my suite. Ana would see it, and would know immediately that she was to take the vital things, which we had never unpacked, and flee.

In the meantime, I had to draw this group away from our temporary home and then disappear. I dashed away, making sure to jump over every head that was looking for me. I climbed higher, and the more agile men followed me. But when they topped the final building, they would not find me. I had spotted what I had found to be an old friend, and a leap of faith landed me snugly in a haystack down below.

Quietly, I waited. A couple of suspicious guards poked their weapons into the hay before moving on. One stabbed my knee, but I managed not to kick him. Finally, things almost quieted down. Now, though, every patrol would be on the lookout for me.

Swiftly, I jumped out of the hay and brushed myself off. The cloth was stripped off quickly from where I could afford it and tossed into an alleyway. I was about to go straight to where Ana was heading to when I noticed something. There were houses here, and one person had the fortune to have a bit of grass to themselves. They had decided to hang their clothes out to dry. I eyed a dress with distaste, but finally gave into the need, ripping it off the line and throwing it over my costume.

I made it through the streets relatively well. The guard still peered suspiciously at a woman out this late at night, but I wasn't wearing the garb of the woman who had tried to assassinate Cesare, so I wasn't _that_ interesting. A few tricky maneuvers almost got me caught, mainly by trying to avoid one patrol and just running into another. The roofs were obviously off-limits because I would be shot on sight. In a few words, it took a while to get where I wanted.

As I neared the meeting place, I was immediately aware of a struggle. Ana's voice called out, and she was almost immediately silenced. My heart quivered as a sharp memory of my mother leapt out at me. Glancing up, I noticed nobody was on the roofs anymore. Throwing the dress off of me, I ran down an alley to find a good place to climb up, but not before stumbling over a bag. A second look showed me it was one of mine, and attached to it was a very special weapon.

I pulled from the wrap a bow, made by myself after years of dedication to the art. Scattered around the place were the arrows and quiver, as they seemed to have come free while Ana was grabbed. Quickly, I picked up the quiver and three arrows in my haste. Slinging these over my shoulder, I ascended quickly and crouched, unseen, in the shadow of another building.

Below, I could see Cesare had been smart enough to go to the suite, and that he had probably run into Ana on the way there. It was only Ana's bad luck that had gotten her caught. And me. Cesare paced around, talking in turn to his soldiers and to me, hoping I would show up. I didn't move. He didn't see me, even as he glanced about the rooftops.

"You shouldn't worry, girl." Cesare said to Ana. "There was no way for you to escape from what your dear Verónica has drawn to herself. But she could help you escape it now, if she wanted to." Now he raised his voice. "Isn't that right, Verónica? You're a strong, smart girl. You know that if you surrendered, she would be free from harm. Your burden is not her own."

The hunger in his eyes frightened me. I tried not to shiver while I pushed further into the shadows, and then slowly reached for an arrow. The notch rested snugly against the string, and I readied myself to draw it back as quietly as possible. This time, I would not miss, nor would I hesitate. An arrow would rest firmly in his head tonight.

"Or perhaps your own revenge is worth more than the life of your closest friend?" He drew close to Ana, holding the knife I had dropped against her throat. Oh, what a cruel irony, that my own dagger might harm her if I don't act quickly enough.

The string wasn't quiet enough. Cesare heard my swift movement, detected me in the shadows. I could only imagine what I might look like, hope that my eyes would burn like fire and that my gaze and stance would remind him of a girl from three years ago, whose mother he ordered to be shot before she was hung.

There was an order given from somewhere far to my right. I wasn't quite sure what it was or who said it, but my arrow loosed, the fletching swiftly drawing across my cheek before disappearing in a hail of other such projectiles. This caught me by surprise, as the arrows and bolts were not pointed at me, but instead rained upon Cesare and his troops. Half of the guards dropped right then, and most of the other half was wounded. Cesare was forced to get away from Ana in order to guard himself from the arrows. He cast his gaze about, and sighted many hooded figures upon the roofs.

I noticed them all now. They had hidden in the shadows far better than I had, given their considerably lighter garb. However, it didn't make me pause. They were not my enemies, and so they were not important. Only Ana was, and I dropped to the ground quickly for her. Stepping over dead bodies and confronting the weakened ones, it was easy for me to carve a path through. The hooded figures descended as well, and their own intentions shielded me from Cesare and what was left of his guards before long. When I made it to Ana, I grasped her hand firmly and pulled her up.

It was no surprise that she immediately embraced me, and I gave her a hug back. She was shaking, the result of being both terrified and pumped full of adrenaline. I knew far too much about that lately, despite prior training sessions with the demoness.

"Are you alright?" I said quickly as we parted, still holding her arms to keep her steady. She nodded wordlessly.

"There he goes!" Someone shouted, and I looked up.

Cesare, outnumbered and outmanned, was fleeing. Anger burned up in me. Wasn't he just talking about me fulfilling my revenge? Where the hell had all his bravado gone? I took a few angry steps away from Ana, toward Cesare, and was about to break into a run when a man's hand came up, stopping me.

"Hold on. Let him run."

I smacked the hand away from me.

"Don't tell me what to do." I said obstinately.

"Cesare will die, I assure you." Said the man soothingly, his accent and voice somewhat familiar. "But it will not be today. He is too strong to fall to you."

I stared at him for a while. I recognized the voice, and was starting to put the pieces, but there was no spark of recognition from him. Finally, I made a noise of exasperation.

"You always did lecture me about what I could and could not do." I said.

"I'm sorry, have we met?" Asked Ezio, confused.

"Verónica Reyes." I introduced myself, offering a hand. "But before that, my mother called me Silvia."

There was a pause, and then Ezio's hand grasped mine, firm and warm.

"Silvia. So you did come back."

"Mother was right. I found friends in both Spain and England."

"I am assuming that's why you've been making lots of noise, running on rooftops and killing captains."

"They were good teachers." I confirmed.

"Everyone!" Ezio turned and motioned with his hand. "Go back to the hideout! And you, Silvia. You and your friend should come with us. There are a few friends I'd like to introduce you to."

* * *

><p>The night was quiet. Dawn would break soon, and I watched as the horizon became lighter and lighter, the pale grey turning different shades of pink and blue. Absently, I picked at the rooftop, finding a rock and then tossing it down now and then.<p>

"Still thinking it over?" Ezio asked from behind me. "The Assassins are not that bad, you know."

"No, I'm not thinking about that. I've really got nothing else to do other than be an Assassin, do I? Besides, any reason to go after Cesare without you lecturing me is alright."

Despite my joke, there wasn't really any energy in it. I was replaying the night. Where I slipped up, the fight, the couple of times I almost killed him but didn't or couldn't. My mind even fled to sooner. Where could I have been better when attracting him or lowering his defenses? Was there any way I could have made him trust me?

"Ah. Then it doesn't take much for me to guess where your mind is, then."

"No, your guess would probably be accurate."

"Don't worry. We're building to it. Cesare will not stay in power."

I didn't want Cesare just out of power. Of course, I didn't say this. It was selfish of me, to think I was the only one who wanted to do away with Cesare. There was a whole group here dedicated to ridding the world of people like him. At once I found it strange to think I was an assassin. Now it was strange to think than I was only one amongst many. And even more startling was that my teachers, Marisol Flores and Anastasia Knight, were both well-known Assassins from their respective countries. They hadn't been teaching me for revenge. They had taught me to be an Assassin.

"You attracted some attention when you first got here. I hear your dancing is superb."

Brow furrowed in confusion, I turned away from the new pebble I had found and looked at Ezio. He had a nice smile on his face, the beard making him look more mature than he probably was deep down. The man extended his hand, gauntlets glinting in the light of breaking dawn. I sighed and dropped the rock, a smile finding its way onto my face. My hand rested in his and he helped me up.

Surprisingly, Ezio was a good dancer. I never would have guessed it, since Ezio had always just seemed like the man who kept fighting unfair forces. He never seemed the type to be learned in any 'sophisticated' talents.

Maybe, just maybe, I thought, I can let go of revenge.

**Shieb: O_o Thank you guys so much for giving me so many views.**

**So, the last chapter of this story. Sad, eh? Truth be told, there is a whole lot more to the story. Like when the main character saved Cesare's life, her time being trained, and so on. I really want to extend this story, but the truth is that it's supposed to be a short story, specifically for this event. Perhaps I'll write more chapters later.**

**Anyways, figured I'd clarify that Ezio is not interested in Silvia/Veronica. He's just being nice. Not that I wouldn't want to write a fanfic where a character got in a relationship with Ezio. ^_^ I just don't want to make a crappy Mary Sue fanfic as a result.  
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